They make you cross, your mum and dad
They give you their old clothes, they do
They dress you with the garb they had
From Tesco-Extra, just for you
But they were made cross in their turn
So quit moaning, you thankless scroats
Who do you think you are? Now learn!
I’ll explain and you’ll take quick notes
Man hands on old clothing to man
Otherwise it’s left on the shelf
Nick the best stuff quick as you can
And don’t buy any clothes yourself
See also: Poems not by Wilfred Owen and not by Siegfried Sassoon.
Friday
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